


Immovable, Unstoppable

by We All Fall Eventually (RavenZaphara)



Category: Undertail - Fandom
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Badass Reader, But Mostly Smut, Consensual Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hate Sex, Heat Kink, I am so fucking gay for him., Inspired by Heat-tale chapter four, NSFW, Nicknamed Reader, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Smut Fic, Thank you Dark_Crystal_Demon for making Argennon, Witchcraft, developed characters, fire-eating, game of seduction, irresistable fire king, reader is a witch, slightly dub con?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-24 01:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9694259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenZaphara/pseuds/We%20All%20Fall%20Eventually
Summary: You were strong-willed, to say the least. You faced your fears head on, and didn't let anything stop you from reaching your goals.It seems, however, you have finally met your match. You always thought of yourself as an Immovable Object of sorts, but he was certainly an Unstoppable Force.He always get what he wants. What if he wants you?





	1. A Candle In A Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dark_Crystal_Demon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Crystal_Demon/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Heat-tale](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8140172) by [Dark_Crystal_Demon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Crystal_Demon/pseuds/Dark_Crystal_Demon). 



> I was sick over the weekend and wrote all 25 pages of this in a day and a half. Someone bring me some chicken soup and a doctor's excuse for work.
> 
> This is only tangentally related to Undertale, but look I couldn't help it. I needed to write some kink and rarely am I offered such an appetizing palette to work with.
> 
> Please read Heat-Tale by Dark_Crystal_Demon, chapters 3-5 if you will! That way you'll understand just why I had to do this.
> 
> My source for fire-eating: http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/penn-jillette-reveals-the-secrets-of-fire-eating-132787272/?page=1  
> Please do not attempt it.

You weren’t entirely keen on the idea of fire. It made you kind of wary to be near an open flame-- even a sentient one, and as of late you’d been spending more and more time around them. Your best friend, the one you affectionately referred to as your sister even though neither of you were blood related, was in a very heavy relationship with a man made of fire.

The two of you met by chance. You pursued faerie tales, she studied them. You struck up a conversation that lasted a quite literal four years. You had given her her nickname of Jacky, saying she was just like any fairy-tale misfit-- and since they were all named Jack, why not?

As for you, in comparison you lead a simple, single life. You had a small apartment stuffed with black furniture and black clothing. You worked in a little cafe downtown and amassed a sizable grimoire on folklore and its relation to modern monster culture.

A _very_ sizable grimoire.

It was one of those nights where you were poring through it, making more notes in the margins where they’d fit and adding sticky notes where they wouldn’t when she called you up. You expected the usual. Talk about the bar, talk about Grillby, talk about that amazing little dungeon she was so proud of. It was fascinating to you, honestly, the idea of a human with a flame elemental, though you never pried into the workings of it.

Until now, it wasn’t your business.

“I need help. I need a buffer.”

“A… buffer?”

“There’s this… guy, another flame guy.”

“And?” You waited. “What, is he hot for your balls or something?”

She snorted. It was an old joke between the two of you. “Uh… yeah, though. Yeah, and…. Well, if you’re here, maybe he won’t… pour it on so thick.”

“Wait, so…?”

“I just need you to be here so he will be less likely to try something.”

“Does Grillby know about this?”

“No. Not yet. He’s… still away. I need help.”

“I’ll pack a bag. How long am I staying? Fuck it, I’ll bring everything I’ll need. Keep the door open for me sweetheart, and keep him at bay with whatever you can. I’m gonna save your ass this time.”

“I owe you one.”

“No, you covered dinner the last two or three times. Let’s call us even.”

“Oh, wait. Um… One more thing.”

“C’mon, the more you talk, the less time I have to pack.”

“He’s a king, Sailor.” Her stern use of your nickname only made you give a huff of air.

“King of my foot up his ass.”

“I mean it.”

“Me too, homie. I’m gonna kill this thing and it’s gonna be fucking epic. Now where’s its heart?”

“That reference is so dated. No one’s going to get it.”

“ _You_ did though, and I can hear you grimacing at me.”

“Shut up and get down here.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

It was worse than you thought. The weird shit going on with Jacky’s chest ever since she got that amulet thing (it slipped your mind again what it really was) was clearly visible and she was damn near clawing at her chest. Whatever was going on was really fucking with her head, and you could tell immediately.

“Where is the bastard?” You asked. “I’ll get a fire extinguisher and give him a bad hair day.”

She managed to laugh but she was winded. “I had to run over here and stand by the door so he couldn’t touch me without people seeing. If he’d known someone would be coming over, he probably would have tried anyway.”

“What a prick.”

“Get in before someone sees me like this.”

“I don’t count, right?”

“Never have.”

“I’m flattered.”

Behind Jacky, a voice rang clear in the darkness of the bar. “And who is this?”

With a weary sigh, Jacky turned to the figure-- and you laid eyes upon him for the first time.

Whereas Grillby's flames were a rich orange leaning into red depending on his temperment, _this_ creature was stark crimson, like a demon composed of hellfire and sin. Rather than appearing human, as Grillby did, the supposed king had hooved feet and large horns jutting from his head. He wore a black cloak, which you would commend him on his taste-- except that it was literally the only thing he was wearing.

“This is a king?” You whispered to her, voice flat and uninspired.

“For the love of god, don’t be rude.” She whispered back. Louder, she made the introductions. “Sailor, this is Argennon.”

“I’m sure the pleasure is all yours.” You greeted, voice so heavily acidic you were sure he would be offended.

“Dammit, Sailor.” Jacky whined.

“I’m not going to pretend to be his friend. He’s not my king. I didn’t vote for him.”

Argennon didn't seem eager to back down, to your disappointment, but it was slightly amusing to see him composed. His stance, the way he stood cockily, his arms crossed as he stared at you mercilessly, trying to read you-- it told you this would be a long, uphill battle.

 

In Jacky’s room, the two of you had a bit of a pow-wow about what the plan would be. “Look, if he’s pouring it on that thickly, you’re not staying here.”

“He’ll follow me, though!” She whined.

“Calm down and think this through. What am I good at, sweetheart?” You were digging in your bag and brought out a container of brushes and pens. The temporary ink made for an amazing utility of Glamour magic.

“Will it work though? He knows how my soul looks.”

“You’ll be gone before he even notices you’re missing. And the reason he won’t suspect is _I’m_ going to disguise my soul’s aura to look like _yours_.”

“That… seems like a lot of work. Will it even work? I mean... we don't really look alike."

“I'm working on the assumption that he's tracking you by your soul. It's gotta be something about your soul. Monsters are weird like that. It’ll be worth it if it gets you out of here.”

“We both know you putting that much energy into something isn’t a good idea. You show a tiny bit of weakness and he’ll pounce, Sailor.”

“I can handle it. Trust me, I’d sooner fuck a knife than a fire.”

She didn’t look so sure, but your mind was made up. There would be no changing your mind, especially since you had taken it as a personal challenge.

“Go to a spa, sweetheart. On me. And don’t worry, I’ll keep the Glamour up until you’re safe. And if he goes after you, I will find you first and beat him off with a stick if I have to.”

“Just a stick?”

“A crowbar is still technically a stick. So is a baseball bat, or a tire iron…. Or a branch wrapped in barbed wire….”

“Okay, you can stop.”

“I’m just getting started. Now let’s get you Glamoured up and out of this stuffy bar.”

 

Using someone else’s makeup was a lovely implement of Glamour magic-- and you were very adept at it. You’d done it for years, to get jobs, to get dates, to get free drinks at the local bar. You had specific colors of lipstick for each occasion. You were never unprepared.

Now was no exception. And for the first day, there were no big problems. You only left the bedroom for food and water, returning to lounge about and wait it out. You easily ignored the pulsations of beckoning heat down the hall. He’d have to try a lot harder than that to get to you.

After that, though, your problems started to set in. Magic was very draining-- even more so with someone else’s intent constantly running counter to yours-- and everyone was different in how they recharged. Some lit candles and meditated, some swam in the ocean or a river.

You would have sex. Which was, at the moment, a very slim option. Especially since it didn’t seem to count unless it was with someone else. You could get yourself off for days and still yearn. It was something in the act of watching someone unravel under your power. You didn’t understand it but it gave you a thrill that powered you for months-- with the right partner.

Considering, though, that you didn’t currently _have_ a partner, your magic was beginning to wear thin, and so the jig was up. You’d have to keep an eye on him in person, face to face, to make sure he didn’t go after Jacky. You would hold onto the Glamour as long as you could-- on the off chance you could grab a quickie somehow with a friend who owed you a favor-- and then find other ways to manage this asshole.

This was a problem. You reminded yourself there was no option of backing down, because you had to protect Jacky. You never backed down from a real challenge-- and honestly, what else could you call this?

So that morning, when you went to the kitchen for breakfast, you didn’t bother with niceties. He was leaning on the fridge, staring at you with those hard eyes. You knew he wasn’t happy with the turn of events any more than you were.

After all, he was in no way obligated to stay here, knowing that the girl you called Jacky had left. He was merely intrigued by whatever plan the two of you cooked up. Whatever it was, it would not put a damper on his plans in the slightest. He had a long time for his plans to come to fruition. This was merely a momentary diversion-- but it was an interesting one.

You were _not_ in a mood to trifle with him. You cleared your throat and nodded into another direction, waiting for him to get the hint. If he was as smart and mighty as he seemed to believe, it would be short work.

He merely chuckled.

“Move your flaming ass out of the way or I’ll spit on you.”

“It will take more than that to hurt me.” He said, his features morphing into a haze of amusement. He moved aside. “In fact, I don’t believe you’re capable of it.”

God, that irked you. You wanted to run to the sink and throw full glasses of water at him, but-- where is the goddamn _sink_?! How the fuck-- oh, yeah. This is Grillby’s house. He probably just uses a dishwasher. Fuck, maybe you should have asked more questions before.

Plus, you concluded, you’d end up having to pay for the glasses, and as it were, you weren’t sure this abrupt week off was such a good idea. You’d been meaning to find a new job. Fuck it. Maybe if Jacky was so keen on repaying you, she could toss you into her field somewhere.

The worry on top of the lack of energy was definitely not a good thing.

The day went much the same speed as the morning. You kept an eye on the insufferable bastard and he didn’t seem intimidated or even shocked in the least. You went out of your way to offend him and he didn’t even care! What kind of king is he?!

“You know, I still can’t believe you convinced Jacky you’re some sort of royalty. You don’t even know how to wear pants.” It was a half-hearted jab but you were shocked when he laughed at it. He was outright laughing at you-- and rather than getting angry, you found you enjoyed the sound.

It was actually pretty rare to find someone who wasn’t intimidated by you. In this town, you certainly had a reputation and it frequently preceded you. Making friends and connections was difficult if they weren’t going to be based in fear-- hell, why else would you need the Glamour skills?

But this guy, this Argennon, he didn’t seem scared in the least. It planted a thought in your head that you didn’t welcome. You would _not_ stoop so low as to take energy from him. Even if he perhaps _could_ match you in passion or ferocity. It was as you told Jacky. You would rather fuck a knife than a flame.

You had become used to the pulsating heat that called to you from down the hall at night. The arrogance of him waiting for you to surrender to him and walk that distance. He’d wait forever, if you had your way-- and you _would_!

But….. no one else had to know that, in bed as you waited for sleep to claim you, your attempts to restore your own energy ended in a growl as you thought of that infuriating heat and that arrogant, condescending fearlessness he exuded.

He truly enjoyed a challenge. Perhaps a little too much. Though he still wanted to see Star, he also wanted to see how much pressure this “Sailor” could take before breaking.

He felt that perhaps you would either cave immediately, or prove to be a true test of his skills. That night, he thought about his plans as he continued to beckon to you.

It was only a matter of time. He _always_ got what he wanted.

 

The third day was harder still for you. You woke up with a thirst unquenchable of water. You went into the bar and put several tens into the till, taking a few bottles and stowing them in your room. You would ask for change when Grillby got back.

You put a nice amount into a coffee thermos and walked around drinking it. It made your body hum, your throat burn. It was just the edge you needed to stay aware, though it would exhaust you sooner. However, you’d have to keep yourself in check. It was a fine line to walk between in-control and out. Even a tiny amount of magic restoration would be useless if it made you too horny to resist taking as much as you could from whoever was near.

You walked the line just fine for a while, but the path to hell is paved with only the very best of intentions. You had to lock yourself away to compose yourself before noon-- and by compose yourself, you meant that his heat was affecting you too much and you’d be damned if he knew.

You writhed on your bed, sweating though you were uncovered, cursing the alcohol for making you like this, and yourself for giving into any part of that thirst. You were whimpering as you came around your fingers, panting as you sat up and looked around the room in an attempt to distance you from the shame-- especially since it hardly curbed the hunger you felt.

This was hell.

You left the thermos in your room and sought water. You took a long, cold shower, too, though it barely helped. You hoped it would at least calm you down, but you were on edge more than ever now.

So when you left the bathroom to find him staring at you, brow cocked, smile little more than a sneer with roiling flames threatening to part his lips and lap at your shame, you reacted in a way you wouldn’t normally. You flattened yourself to the bathroom door and stared in mute shock at him. Why did he have to be right here?

Maybe if you whip at him with your wet hair, you could injure him, like a cat o nine tails or something.

“F-fuck off, I’m not in the mood for your shit right now.” You said, but your legs quavered as your body remembered just how hungry it was, and _god_ if he wasn’t an absolute fount of energy. Just to take a little of it, hell-- “Get away from me.” You needed to get away while you could, before your still slightly-buzzed mind allied with your desperate libido. You started to walk away.

“It is a good look for you.” He said, his fingers brushing the back of your arm. You flailed your head, satisfied by the sizzle as your hair touched his arm. He didn’t react as you’d expected, though. His fingers intertwined your locks and he tugged you backward. “I can only imagine how infrequently you blush like that.”

Fuck, he’d seen.

He was closer now, his heat permeating through your thin pajama shorts and tanktop. His grip hardened, tugging your hair back further, and your automatic response took over. You dropped the bundle of your clothes and elbowed him in the stomach, and then went to stomp his foot-- but remembered too late he didn’t necessarily have them.

He released your hair and you spun to punch at him. He dodged the first few, grabbing your shoulders to keep you from striking again, but you headbutted him, immediately crying out when it hurt you much more than it did him-- considering he had horns. Not about to lose this battle, you raised your knee as hard as you could into his unguarded crotch.

He grunted, and you shoved him with all your weight. He went, but his grip on you brought you too, and the two of you rolled around, you pummeling the shit out of him, him grappling you, laughing.

The realization that he was erect against your thigh snapped you out of your fighting mood instantaneously, and you tried to scramble off of him, but he gripped your hips and drug them against his. He chuckled darkly against your ear as the movement made you fall forward onto his chest again. You gasped.

“You fucking _asshole_!” You yelled and punched him dead in the face. He didn’t grace you with a reaction this time, either, and you groaned as his hips gyrated again against your aching core.

“Let go of me.” You commanded.

“And why, pray tell, would I do that?” He asked, his voice rough and abrasive. His hunger could almost match yours, you realized, and it at once frightened and thrilled you. “Mmm, you’re so needy.” He said, and you looked between the two of you to see you’d sufficiently soaked through your pajama bottoms with your arousal already.

“Because I’ll fucking murder you.” You threatened, desperate to save face, pushing off of his chest only to feel his grip on your thighs tighten. His cock pulsated with need, and damn if it didn’t look marvelous. You swallowed your breath and tried again to push off of him.

“You threaten me with a pleasant time.” He growled, his unwavering strength moving, his hands searing as they slid over the shorts, up to your hips. He dug his thumbs into your hipbones, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to feel like your skin was beginning to sear.

“I don’t want you.” You said, but you were aware by now it was a lie. He was too.

“We both know what you want.” He muttered, rolling his hips again and eliciting a gasp.

He fully believed you would break to his will now. That you would just say “Fuck it” and let him take you right here, but when you grabbed his wrists and pressed hard into his flames with skin that felt like it was made of ice, he withdrew, surprised, but not entirely unpleasantly so.

“I want you to sodomize yourself with a rusty pipe.” You growled, and got up effortlessly. You didn’t bother bending over to get your clothes, and he didn’t bother getting up.

When you were on the other side of your door, you collapsed against it, gasping, panting, touching the heated marks on your hip bones. If this went on much more, you’d have to reconsider your priorities. Knives hadn’t looked quite this appealing before, and you'd used what little of your magic you had left to pull that stunt with the cold. 

You had felt it, the energy in him begging to be consumed, to consume you in turn. You used a hand to muffle yourself as you moaned. _Pull yourself together!_

You remembered what happened, years ago, and reminded yourself.

You had your reasons to hate fire. You had your reasons to fear it-- and, with a feral grin, you remembered how you’d conquered your fear before.

Perfect.

You didn’t have what you needed for this, and so you would have to find a way to get that asshole into pants and public.

 

The first part was a lost cause, but the latter was easy enough. He agreed to go with you to the store, but as he watched your strange set of items compile in the cart, he began to get worried.

Cotton, thread, water bottles, campfire fuel, ingredients for dinner. He asked if you were intending to grill outside, but you pointedly ignored him. You didn’t let him carry any of the groceries until he sighed in aggravation and took them from you. “I’d like to be home before the perishables spoil, wouldn’t you?” He asked bitingly.

Silence got to him, then. Just as how his ignoring your attempts to get a rise aggravated you, he was beside himself if you ignored him.

You didn’t expect an apology for his earlier behavior, and he didn’t offer one. Nor did you for trying to flatten his head with your fists, mostly because it didn’t seem to harm him at all.

You knew well enough that monsters were harmed based off of intent to kill-- and since you had no intent to kill, it hadn’t done much of anything to a body made of fire. You were lucky he didn’t roast your hand, or so you believed.

It wouldn't be the first time you'd played with fire and got burned. Even now, as you prepared dinner, the campfire fuel and the cotton, along with a misshapen wire coat hanger from Jacky’s closet, you tried not to think on it.

Fear. You would not let your fear guide you. You were an adult. An adult who could face any fear you had and turn it into something to be proud of.

“What is… all of that for?” He asked over dinner, gesturing to the pile of things.

After dinner, you got up, put your hair up, and began working with the items, wrapping the cotton around one end of the straightened hanger. You tied it in place with the thread and made sure it would stay firmly in place. You dipped the torch into the fuel, closed the container, and moved far away from it. Argennon’s eyes followed you as he realized what you were doing.

You were thankful the ceilings were relatively high, and that there were no smoke detectors. Nothing more embarrassing than trying to make a point and intimidate him while the Fire Department beats down the door.

You took a generous swig of water from one of the water bottles to get your mouth wet. You lit the torch and made eye contact with him, the flickering light giving you a devilish glint. He smiled at you. You sneered and turned back to your torch, bending your head back, mouth open wide, and shoved the flaming tip of the torch in. You held your breath and closed your mouth just enough to smother the flame without burning your lips on the red-hot metal of the handle.

You removed the torch and maintained merciless eye contact with him. Your mouth ached from the abuse, but you had a point to make. “You see this? You’re just a candle. _I am a storm_.”

He clapped. “Very good, but if your aim was to intimidate me, you’re sorely mistaken. That was incredibly arousing. Would you like to douse my candle with that mouth?”

The after-effects of fire eating were never pleasant, but the pain and disgusting taste made it easy to refuse him. “I would honestly rather die.”

You went to bed and used your homemade salve on the burns and blisters in your mouth and on your lips. Even performing it successfully, it was impossible to not get burned, and you would do well to remember that. Success lead to fewer injuries, but failure…

Failure was not an option for you. Not for this.

You didn’t enjoy the feeling of eating fire, didn’t appreciate the memories that came with it, nor did you like the feeling of being poisoned by the fuel-- ingesting it could be fatal, after all-- but a headache and a nasty aftertaste was a small price to pay to remember why fire was at the bottom of your list of fetishes.

You burped nasty fumes the entire night, and kept a bowl by the bed to spit the ooze from the blisters breaking inside your mouth.

You didn’t try to feed the fire of your libido tonight. You didn’t even dare to, but regardless you had a dream that made you wake up hungrier still, despite the hell your mouth had endured the previous evening.

When you dream of dousing candles, of low growls and groans, there is little hope anymore.

 

The next morning, you were in a sour mood. You winced as you ate, and he sighed. “Come here.”

“I’m not coming anywhere near you.”

“And yet I swear I heard something contrary from your chamber last night.” His sultry innuendo caught you off guard.

You gasped, bit your lip, and yelped at the pain. “F-fuck off. You don’t know anything.”

“I know my name when I hear it.” He growled. “But in any case, come here so I can heal your mouth.”

“No.”

“Do you _like_ to hurt?”

You paused. “Not really.”

“Then come here.”

“No.”

He grunted in frustration and got up himself. “Fine.”

He approached your seat at the table, and you tried to scramble up, but he was quicker, pushing your back to the seat before pulling it away from the table. He threw a leg over yours and sat astride your chair. It felt awkward, but you were effectively pinned, making eye contact with his flawless chest. You tried to look away but he gripped your face and made you look up at him. If you would have tried to turn away regardless, his fingers grasping your cheeks would press the blisters to your teeth. You cringed.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He said, his voice soft, nearly a whisper. “You’re capable of facing pain, but not the threat of intimacy with me. Why?”

You refused to answer, your eyes hardened into a glare, though you were in no position to refuse him.

He tilted your head up, and his thumb smoothed over your bottom lip. You winced and he sighed. He leaned in, pressing his mouth very carefully to yours, and you felt the heat make the blisters flare with pain before they went pleasantly numb, your skin bubbling and tingling. You gasped against his mouth and he took the opportunity to part your lips and delve into them with his molten tongue. Every blister, ever raw patch, he razed and soothed.

You found yourself clutching at him, sucking at his tongue, ashamed of the want you felt. The way you whined when he nibbled your lip. Your shame turned to rage, though, as it was wont to do, and you pushed him away, turning your head. “Thank you for your help, now please get off me.”

His fingers traveled up the back of your neck and you shuddered as he grabbed your hair close to the scalp and tugged. His molten tongue traced a line up your neck, making you pant and try again, weaker still, to shove him off. “I think that’s the first time you’ve said please and thank you.” He said. “I’m… honored.” His sarcasm bit at you, and you shoved harder, tears welling in your eyes. He fell off and looked up at you from the ground.

You got up, and without another word, left to lock yourself in your room again, still tasting him on your tongue.

This time, the memory of the pyre consuming your history did only the barest bit to assuage the craving in your core, the need to be ravaged, to reconcile with your crime, with your mistakes, with what people ultimately thought of you.

Contrary to what everyone believed, it wasn’t intentional.

It wasn’t your fault.

You didn’t mean to do it.

But still it was your fire, wasn’t it? It was your match in the group of children, your tiny spark that had--

You punched the floor, you punched the wall, you cried out again and again as you let your anger consume you.

Yes, you were brave, you always had been. You had carried her on your back, even with a twisted ankle. You had done what you could.

It was still your spark. Your match. Your fire.

As an adult witch, you dealt with water. Water could heal, could erase, could cleanse-- but so too could fire, you knew now. You couldn’t deny it forever. You weren't a storm, you were fuel. You were gasoline, and you were terrified of what would happen when you ignited.

You couldn’t deny it forever, no. But you could for one more night. You passed out on the floor in front of the door, letting the chill ward off the memories of heat.

 

_The little girls in the circle, dancing around, holding their unlit matches, reciting the lines four times over, each of them stumbling over the syllables, giggling at each other, squealing with joy and giving chase to each other, but always the four of them came back to the same speed, the same rhythm._

_A solemnity not welcome in children found their eyes as the fourth repetition ended, and the matchbox went around. **fffvt!** The match was lit._

**_fffvt!_ **

**_fffvt!_ **

_The last girl fumbled, the lit match falling onto the pack, the flame catching on what they were circling, the fuel they’d carelessly added igniting with a roar. Eyelashes and eyebrows sufficiently singed off, the girls panicked._

_One of them was on fire, and the fourth girl struggled to roll her around in the leaves, crying, begging her to be okay._

_The other two were yelling for help, calling for the spirit they’d called on to help, for something to help, anyone._

_They had messed in matters they hadn’t understood, and messed up at that. No one knew where they were._

_It had been her idea, they all pointed at the fourth girl. She must have planned it this way. She hates us. She tried to kill us._

_Even as the fourth girl lead them all out of the burning copse, it was still a song of guilt that would replay in her head for decades._

Even as you sat, punching the ground and screaming, you didn’t know what was going on in your head anymore. The words were so played out they didn’t make sense anymore, and so you screamed to drown them out, the self-hatred, the anger at being judged, of being punished for an accident that indeed _hadn’t_ been your idea at all.

But no one cared what the solitary said against the mass.

No one heeded a candle in a storm.

 

When it had gone quiet in your room at last, he tried to poke his head in to check on you. Whatever had happened, he had no idea.

You were passed out on the floor in front of the door, keeping him from opening it. You startled at the jolt of the door opening against you, and you woke up ready to be attacked. You rolled away, clutching at your bag, as if in your sleep-hazed mind, it would help.

He sighed and opened the door further. “Get up.”

“I hate you.”

You weren’t fully awake, he knew, but still it dug at him. He had to remind himself you weren’t in your right mind. “You’re free to hate me all you want, but you will not sleep on the floors. It’s not fitting of you.”

“And why not?” You huffed, huddling against the bag again. “Just let me.”

He rolled his eyes and approached. “Just let _me_ help you.” He said, irritated. “I have never in my life had to struggle so much over a human.” He punctuated this remark by scooping you up, bag and all.

“Fuck you.”

“Perhaps when you change your attitude.” He grumbled, setting you down on your bed. Despite the fluffy and warm things covering the stone bed, he knew you would likely stay cold. And you _had_ been cold-- cold enough that you had curled in his embrace to soak in the heat as much as possible.

You were a careless creature, weren’t you?

He sighed and took off his cloak. “I want this back tomorrow.” He grumbled.

You were already asleep again, too exhausted to care. The scent of him chased you into your dreams, the warmth comforting. As to what you dreamt of, you couldn’t really remember.

All you knew was it was peaceful, and you were grateful.

 

The Glamour had worn off completely while you napped. You were completely out of magic, and you needed food. Without an intake of sexual energy to refuel, you were depending on sleep and food to replenish, and now that your mouth was healed, you could bear to eat. You got up, the cloak falling onto the ground as you moved. You stared at it. You’d thought that had been a false memory, but apparently not. Nothing in life was that merciful.

You found him in the kitchen, as per usual, standing in front of the fridge, stark naked. You didn’t look at him. You kept your eyes downcast and handed him the cloak.

Your body was weakened in multiple ways, and you were sure he’d notice. You were absolutely prepared for him to grab your arm and drag you closer. You were convinced he would--

He took the cloak and moved aside without a word.

Why were you so disappointed?

You weren’t entirely sure why you were looking forward to whatever response he’d have shown. Perhaps you just craved the energy that much, or…

You ate in your room. After the fit you had thrown, you didn’t really feel like interacting. What would you say? Would you just pretend nothing happened and continue as you were, insulting him and hoping for a reaction?

Was he upset with you?

Why the hell did you care?

“Get a grip, Sailor!” You groaned to yourself, resting your head against the cold stone of the wall. Surely this was just because you needed a decent fuck. There was no other explanation that you would accept.

Argennon had noticed you smelled differently. Not badly-- not at all. You were producing an intense amount of pheromones. He could feel just how uptight you were, and he was unsure how to handle it. You were explosive, you were exhausted, no matter how much you ate or slept.

And yes, he was worried. Humans are fragile creatures. Fleeting, fragile creatures, gone in a breath. And though, normally, he would have chosen to just move on, you were different, somehow. You fascinated him, with your bravery and your stubbornness. He wanted to unravel you, but he also wanted to understand you.

He could also see your soul clearly now that he'd peeled the layers of your magic back, laid it bare. He saw how you were essentially in heat and how your soul betrayed your needs. You were entirely too physical, your soul directly tethered to your body. It seemed the only way you would be able to recharge would be with physical help.

It certainly explained why the romp outside the bathroom had left him feeling slightly drained afterward. You were like a succubus. It was exciting and appealing. He wanted to see just how much of you he could taste in your soul.

It took a lot to interest him, but somehow you’d managed it. At some point, it had become more than a game of seduction. Rather than be frightened or intimidated by that fact, he merely shrugged and rolled onward with it. Regardless of how it played out, he’d certainly see it through one way or another.

You, on the other hand, were much less prepared for these volatile feelings. You were unsure how to reconcile the aggravation with the affection. His words replayed in your mind now, as well. _You’re capable of facing pain, but not the threat of intimacy with me. Why?_

Why, indeed. It wasn’t your fear of fire anymore. You’d conquered it, domesticated it, made it something you could show off like a party trick, even if it left you with burns afterward. It wasn’t that you weren’t attracted to him, or that he wouldn’t be a satisfying bed partner. You were absolutely sure you’d get more than you bargained for with him. Experience-wise, _and_ energy-wise.

No, what it was, really… were you afraid that afterward, you’d still want him? After you had taken your fill of energy and then taken a bit more, after you satisfied your curiosity, were you actually afraid you’d still want him when he moved onto a more unconquerable foe?

Perhaps. And it stung a little.

Well. If he wanted an unconquerable foe… You would do your best to be one-- you sorely wanted to believe you could, but the hunger, bone-deep, called out, answered by the pulsations of heat that permeated the house.

You didn’t want to admit you were replaying in your mind how your last little fight had gone. How he’d grappled you and nearly taken you right there on the floor. You didn’t want to think about how much you wanted to go back to that, before you were invested at all in him. Perhaps if you would have given in then, he would have lost interest and left--

And then gone on to conquer Jacky.

Fuck. How had you forgotten that’s how you got into this?! You pushed your desire aside and stood up. You had to do this for her. You had to be in control. You had to be brave!

You could do this. You could, and you _would_.

You left the room, ignoring the instant heat wave that threatened to knock your legs from under you. He was in his room, then, you surmised. You would be waiting, then. You would keep an eye on him. You would resist him until this ended. And at that point… at _that_ point you could worry about what happened if you gave in.

Argennon was indeed in his room. You were driving him wild with your smell. It was all over his cloak, and so, wrapped up in it, breathing you in, he wondered how you’d taste as he palmed his cock. He heard your door open and close again, heard your footsteps, and smiled.

His heat was cloying in the stone halls, and you wondered if you’d bake alive. The heat dialed back and the door opened. All of your talk, your Bravery, it deserted you now, and you were frozen to the spot. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, still, and so you didn’t catch sight of his erection as he approached. You waited, unsure what he was going to do. You closed your eyes. _Despite my desire, I have to refuse!_ You repeated it in your head until it was a mantra.

“What do you see that I don’t?” You asked, eyes still closed.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you see about me that others don’t? Who am I, in your words?”

Why were you asking this? Were you so desperate to ask him how he felt about you that you had to dance around it? You were not shy, by any stretch, so _why this?_

He walked past you. “I don’t know you at all.” He said, voice casual. “But from what I see, now that it’s all you that I am seeing… You’re unbelievably reckless. You try so hard to face what you want to hide. You said you hate me, but you ask me this…”

He came closer again, standing in front of you. “So tell me. Do you often lie?” You could feel his breath on your face. The memory of his mouth on yours made you clench your eyes tighter.

“No. Do you?”

“It’s mostly a waste of time to do so. It’s messy work, and will almost invariably backfire.” The smell of him, the warmth of him. Your chest ached. He reminded you of cinnamon and the musk of desire. “That being said, it’s sometimes necessary to get what you want.”

“And what do you want?” You asked bitterly, without meaning to.

He came a bit closer and you felt his body touch yours-- more specifically, you felt his erection press at your belly and you held your breath. He didn’t answer, but perhaps this was the answer. You stood there, rigid, unmoving, sneering with your eyes clamped shut.

He watched your expressions, trying to divine your thoughts. “What do _you_ want?” He asked.

“For Jacky to be safe from you.” You said.

“That can be arranged.”

“How would I know if you’re lying?”

“I guess you won’t.”

You opened your mouth to say something else, but shut it. Your face went slack and he glimpsed your chin quivering before you turned away. “I don’t make a deal unless I know for sure the other party holds up their side.” You pushed past him, walking on legs made of jelly, to the kitchen.

He sighed and stood there. What _would_ you believe, was the real question. How could he make you believe in him?

You sat behind the counter, staring into space. You were boiling within, in more ways than one. You were angry, you were ready to fight. You had an idea, a plan.

The two of you had a singular trait in common. Neither of you could resist a challenge. If you beat him at his own game… he’d have no choice, on his honor, perhaps, but more out of spite. Fuck the reasoning, if you could beat him and have him agree to the stakes…

But what would your stakes be? What would he possibly want from you outside of your body?

You didn’t care at the moment. You could sense where he was in the house now. How long had it been since you came here? A few days? _You were going crazy already?_

You pushed yourself to your feet. “Argennon, I have a challenge for you!”

You turned around to see him standing there, looking surprised for once, and pleasantly so. “Do you?”

“Yes. And whoever wins can have whatever they want from the other.”

“Hmm, and I assume your condition is…?”

“Yes. You leave Jacky alone.”

“What are the rules?” He asked.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What do _you_ want?”

“To know the rules, of course. We’ll talk about my wager afterward.”

“The only rule is that the person who gives into the other’s seduction first is the loser.”

“Just to elaborate, no holds barred, yes? I’m able to use any methods at my disposal?”

“Yes.”

“You think you can outlast me at my best?”

You grinned but didn’t respond. He liked the spark in your eyes. You looked wicked and he couldn’t wait to melt that into pure, desperate yearning. He wanted to make you beg.

“So what is your wager?” You asked.

“It won’t matter.” He said.

“I suppose not, since I’ll be beating you.” You retorted.

“We’ll see.”

You looked down at yourself, “So, can we agree on what giving in entails?” As you spoke, you pulled your hair down from it’s loose ponytail.

“You shall decide, since you’re at a disadvantage.” He replied.

“Arrogance isn’t sexy, Argennon.” You said, and you noticed a reaction when you said his name. Was it _how_ you said it or _that_ you said it? You’d test it out later. “But I believe…” You grabbed the hem of your shirt and began to pull it up. He watched, enraptured. “The first to demand to be fucked, the first to give in…” You stripped the shirt off and looked at him. “Does that work for you?”

“The first to say, or the first to do?”

“Either.” You responded, undoing the button to your pants.

“May I help you make shorter work of that?” He asked, coming closer.

“No, but you can watch and keep your hands to yourself.” You said with a taunting lilt to your voice.

You’d been holding back so much, he saw. It was glorious-- but he would win. He always won.

The way you swayed your hips as you pushed the pants down, the inviting swell of your ass as you bent over. Even the way you chuckled as you nearly stumbled trying to disentangle your ankles. You looked back at him, blushing from your clumsiness.

He _sure_ loved a challenge. “The underwear next, then?”

“I’m not sure.” You said, straightening up. “I don’t think you deserve to see me.”

He growled.

You laughed at him, enjoying his irritation way too much, and you sauntered to the fridge, opening the freezer and grabbing ice cubes. Three.

You held the first one up, let him see it begin to melt in your fingers, the water running down your wrist. You didn’t even look at him, using your other hand to pull your bra away from your breast-- and then placed the ice cube in, settling it directly against your nipple. You did the same to the second one, and then you looked at him, shivering as he watched.

The third one, you maintained eye contact with him, gave the ice cube a small lick, and then pressed it into your panties, right over your clit. This time, the elicited shiver ravaged you, making your legs shake as well.

You certainly knew how to put on a show, he’d admit that.

He was lost for ideas for once, he realized. If he teased those areas, it would be unpleasant to feel the cold water against his flames-- but he remembered something relevant. He came closer. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, wicked grin still alight on your face.

He took your mouth with a ferocity he had to work to restrain, but you matched him, growling into the kiss and biting his lip, his tongue, your fingers tracing the lines of his horns and then hooking onto them to give you leverage to deepen the kiss.

He grabbed your hair to do the same, and then tugged it. The kiss parted and your head lolled to the side. He bit your neck, making you cry out and then whine as his tongue soothed the marks. “I could brand you right here.” He growled. “I could scar you and everyone would know who owns you.”

You didn’t want to feel a thrill at those words.

“I could take you far away from here if you only let me.” There was a change in his tone now, but you ignored it.

He was lying, you knew it. He had to be. He didn’t want you for more than this moment.

“I could lay you down and bed you again and again, until you can’t say anything but my name.” He bit your earlobe softly, but with increasing pressure. His breath hot in your ear, you trembled. “And you have only but to ask me.”

Nobody expects a headbutt. Similarly, you might know that no one wins with one. But this time, you felt you did. He stumbled a bit, and you tackled him, kicking and punching him as you went down together. He held you and blocked you from the floor, absolutely unfazed by your attacks-- but his attention was only on your strikes and-- suddenly it wasn’t anymore.

His attention drifted to the way strikes gave way to scratches. Your body was flush against him, wriggling, your smell strong, your hair in his face. You had tried so hard to be water, but right now you felt like gasoline. You knew, one way or another, he was going to ignite you. And you were ready.

You were full of need, of desire to take his energy, take from him. Your eyes glowed like fires themselves as you sneered down at him, clawing as you sat up, straddling his waist, your hips pressing his erection down. He could feel the slickness, the hot, beckoning wetness of you against his cock, even through your panties.

Ice cubes be damned, he shoved his hands under your bra and pinched your nipples hard. You arched your back, and your smiling mouth, devilish and malicious, parted to say his name on a gasp. He throbbed against your mound and you chuckled.

“You’re so self-important that you get off to your own name?” You asked.

He didn’t respond. It wasn’t that he liked his name so much as he wanted to make you scream it.

“I have an idea.” He said. “Would it count if I lick you?”

Straightforward and to the point. Normally that was a great thing but now it made you lose your focus and so-- “Only if turnabout is fair play. Can you last if I douse your candle?”

He growled, his fingers digging into your hips. The two of you repositioned, and you yelped when you felt your underwear be singed off of your body. His tongue quickly delved into your folds and he dug his fingers into your ass, pressing you down onto his face.

You couldn’t help but whimper at the feeling of the molten attention to your sensitive clit. You grabbed his cock and leaned toward it. Should you treat it like a torch? You weren’t sure, and honestly, you were expecting the worst.

The taste of his cock was definitely different from the fuel of the torch. It didn’t taste terrible, and the heat didn’t blister your mouth. The answering growl against your folds increased your fervor as you tested just how much of him you could fit in your mouth. You bobbed on his cock, satisfied when his breath stuttered, and then thrust him as far into the back of your throat as you could manage, swallowing around him for good measure.

He groaned against you, his actions becoming more desperate. He couldn’t hold out much longer, he was ashamed to admit. He had to win this, though. He had to!

You were faring no better. The bastard knew what he was doing, and the sound of him-- and the feeling of his sounds, at that-- were going to be the death of you. It wasn’t going to end like this. You couldn’t take it.

He lifted your hips, gasping and leaving kisses on your inner thigh. “Stop.” he said softly. “I want to look at you.”

That wasn’t what you expected, but you were relieved that it wasn’t over yet. You climbed off of him, sitting on your knees, and he sat up as well. He grabbed your face and held it there in both of his hands for a moment.

He couldn’t lose this battle. He refused to let this be his first loss, especially since he couldn’t recall ever wanting something so much.

He kissed you again, softer, one of his hands trailing down to your folds and finding your clit and tracing it gently. “You’re almost there, aren’t you?” He whispered.

You gasped, your hips responding to his touches as you grabbed his other arm, holding yourself steady with him. “Y... yes.”

“Please just…” He kissed your throat. “Do you want me?”

You refused to answer, your hips moving in tandem with his fingers.

“Goddammit, answer me or I’ll stop.” He was desperate for you. You had all but ravaged him, his furious storm, and he wasn’t about to walk away without his victory.

You whimpered, your eyes seeking his, pleading.

You wouldn’t answer then. Of course you wouldn’t. You weren’t fighting for yourself.

He couldn’t force you to come home with him. He couldn’t _force_ you to do anything, deal or not.

This was his way of showing you he was serious. This was his opportunity to have you believe him.

Maybe you were just getting to him, but right now, he didn’t care. His fingers delved deeper into the moisture, dipping into you. He kissed your pulse and shifted onto his knees. You let him lean you back. You looked at him, your eyes begging what your mouth refused to, and he obliged.

“You win.” He said, his voice unladen with bitterness. In a way, this could be a victory, still. But it wouldn’t be because of the wager.

You would be his on your own accord.

You hooked your legs around his waist, wriggling your hips off the ground in an attempt to help him line up with your entrance. He pressed in a bit before retreating and working in slower. Your legs tightened around him in an attempt to pull him closer.

You were squeezing so perfectly around him. There was no sneer on your face anymore. He could see you as you really were. Vulnerable, afraid to take this moment for granted.

He pressed deeper into you. “So… So good.” he panted, setting a punishing rhythm. He tore your bra off of you and bit your breast.

You screamed his name, arching into him. He relinquished your breast in favor of your neck. “That’s right. Again.”

“Argennon! Oh… _fuck_!”

He angled himself differently, trying to find a way to drive you wilder. He needed to taste every aspect of you. He needed to see who you were, he needed to make every part of you his.

“G- _GOD!_ There, Arge-- AGH!”

He chuckled against your pulse, his tongue snaking out to prelude his bite. “That’s okay, my Storm. You can call me your god. I don’t mind.”

After another particularly vicious thrust against that area you seemed to like so much, you were rather incoherent.

“Are you going to cum for me?” He asked. Another relentless thrust.

You were clinging to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Do you want me to make you cum?” Another. He loved the feeling of your gasping mouth against his chest.

“Don’t… don’t tease me, dammit.” You managed.

“Fuck.” You were tightening around him. “Well… how about a better question.”

“Argennon, for fuck’s sake…” You were so close. “Please, just…” He cut you off with another thrust.

“What do you want?” He resumed the pace, reveling in how your body felt around him. 

“Please,” you couldn’t quite get it out, you were tensing up, your body tightening around him. “Argennon, please!” He scooped his arms under you, anything to get closer as he continued his furious pace, hammering into you to the hilt.

“Tell me!” He couldn’t hold out much longer.

“Cum inside me, please!” You cried, and he felt you nearing, your body trying to milk him for his seed. With a gasp, he came with you, cradling you, muffling his groan of completion as he hilted and stayed, feeling you squeeze around him. You whimpered in his arms, still clutching at him, unwilling to let him go, knowing he might disappear the moment you looked away.

You really didn’t want that to be the last thing you ever said to him.

He kissed you again, and you returned it, still too vulnerable to cover up just how scared you were that this would be over now. He freed one of his arms and chuckled. “Did you mean it like that?” He asked softly against your temple.

You didn’t have the strength to respond. He settled his hand on your stomach. “You’d be perfect for my halls, if you did.”

You didn’t understand what he meant.

“That would have been my wager, but… on second thought, I felt it would be better to give the illusion of choice, if nothing else.” He sighed against your neck. “Yes, you’d fit very well in my home. I’m taking you with me.”

“You are?”

“Do you have a counter argument?”

Well, you most likely lost your job, and if you went with him, you could easily hold him to his word concerning Jacky… You didn’t much feel like the cushy royal life was your speed, really, but…

“Not really.”

“I will give you two days to pack and notify anyone of changes in plans if necessary.” His hand’s warmth on your stomach reminded you of what happened moments ago.

“Hey… uhm… Argennon?”

He chuckled. You’d been screaming it easily enough just a minute ago, and yet now you were shy. How adorable.

“Yes?”

“Does…. This mean…?” You put a hand over his.

“If you want.” He said, and his smile showed in his voice. “I do. But I can always try again in a few hours until you decide to let it stick.”

He wasn’t going to get tired of you any time soon, then. You grinned. “You realize I’m going to put you and everyone around you through hell, right?”

“Good luck. They’re all so jaded and I’m so bored most of the time.”

“Is that so?”

“They don’t know how to entertain a king.”

“King of what?” you taunted, but before you could add another smart remark, he cut you off.

“It doesn’t matter.” He held you a little tighter. “ _This_ matters.”

Well, that ruined your fun, certainly. But you merely rolled over and lay on his chest to get off the stone floor. Curiosity made you ask a question you’d had for a few days now. “So, I wasted my magic on that Glamour, didn’t I?”

“Mmmm, not entirely, I suppose. It didn’t fool me, but it kept me intrigued, and until then, I didn’t really pay attention to your soul.” He sighed. “I like you better as you.”

“Do you really?” You asked, trying to sound sarcastic.

“You are my storm.” he said. “And I’ve never been so happy to lose a challenge.”


	2. Many Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optional chapter, featuring:  
> Grillby and Jacky's kids (mentioned)  
> Argennon's heat cycle  
> Breeding kink  
> And maybe some other themes ^.^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Dark_Crystal_Demon for creating Argennon.  
> Thanks again to you guys for reading and enjoying this entirely self-indulgent story. Sailor was an amazing character to write, and this story has certainly been my stress relief!  
> (fun fact!: I am a witch, like Sailor, and, as I told DCD, the energy-recharge sex was an actual thing. That's literally how I recharge! I swear it's not libido ex machina lmao.)

You never were much for opulence, but you hadn’t been much for fire, once, either. He knew you well enough by now to not ask you to give up wearing jeans and graphic tees, even in his court. You had told him when he brought you here that he would never be able to change you.

“I’m counting on that.” He’d said wryly.

That had been years ago, and it was certainly odd to reconcile the lustful king with the man who sat around, glaring into space for most of the day while people talked his ear off about things he honestly couldn’t affect currently. He’d rather die than admit anything is outside his capabilities, but honestly… it was just as he said. He was bored. They were jaded.

You never allowed him the pleasure of breeding you-- perhaps partially from the fear that he’d lose interest in you, though honestly, why you figured he’d leave you after bonding with you, you’d never know.

You had casually remarked to him once that, if only he had a desk for all that shitty paperwork, you could keep him thoroughly relaxed and interested while he got through it all. The next day, he’d arranged for an office space to match the one you’d demanded to hold your now too-big-to-lift grimoire.

You were true to your word, working under his desk while he worked on the very dull aspects of his position. It was especially fun when someone came in to talk to him during those times. Time had made you all-too aware of his weaknesses and how to best exploit them.

During one such incident, you did particularly well and he pulled you out from under the desk and bent you over it. The dignitary he’d been speaking to was still in the room, frozen to the spot. You made eye contact with him and gave him a sheepish smile.

Argennon had no sense of shame. That much was obvious. He leaned up to look over your back at the dignitary. “Go on. As you were saying?”

The poor man was perpetually frozen, only able to manage a weak stammer as Argennon dipped again to lap at your folds. You covered your mouth to stifle your noises, but that only made the lewd sounds he made more audible.

“This can w-wait for a-a better time!” The dignitary finally managed, and darted out of the room.

“Fine by me.” Argennon muttered to you, straightening up to let you feel his cock tease at your opening. You thrust yourself backwards just enough to get the tip in, and he obliged you by slamming into you roughly, making you cry out without restraint.

It was a rather nice hobby, unraveling him.

Argennon, however, had come to be more stressed lately. As the years went on, he was concerned how you’d handle him if he went into heat. You were, despite everything, still human, and though he liked to say he was capable of perfect control (which, of course, wasn’t a stretch, considering how he could cum inside you without killing or even burning you), he wasn’t sure how much control he’d retain in a heat.

He’d never really worried about it before, honestly. Not only because he hadn’t been as emotionally invested in his partners before you, but also because it was a single event over at least a century’s time. Plus, there were no shortages of fire monsters to help him through his heats the last times they had occurred.

He’d grown to talk to you about these sort of things. Anything, really. He didn’t trouble himself often, and when something managed to, you were always able to alleviate the stress-- and he didn't mean just in the sexual way. You would start out with your snark, approach the issue with comedy, and then the two of you would wear down to the actual issue it pertained to. You were pretty knowledgeable, to his initial surprise.

He’d solved a ton of problems in a matter of days that he’d struggled to be interested in enough to work through in years. You put things into a different language, a different context. He wasn’t sure if it was a human trait, or just a “you” trait, but it was amazing.

You’d even managed to earn the respect of the others. He’d expected there to be at least some manner of outrage over him taking a human consort rather than a fellow elemental-- but it became clear very quickly why you were there. Argennon was actually concerned that you frightened some of his court away.

As for consorts, concubines, and things of that sort… you weren’t fond of the idea, and he obliged. _That_ was actually where the outrage came in, but you were quick to put it to rest. How you did it, he’d never know. Knowing you, you probably doused another torch with your mouth and managed to intimidate them.

But a potential heat wasn’t the only thing on his mind. It had been ages since he’d had any new heirs. It had to be millennia ago... Only recently, in the past two centuries or so, had he been humoring the idea of having more children. You had appeared to him as his interest had been rising.

You never accepted his seed. And he didn’t know why.

He wondered how to bring it up. If it would upset you. He chuckled wryly into his hands when he remembered that there was a time he wouldn’t have cared. He would have demanded this, he would have worn you down until you agreed.

He was afraid that’s what he’d do if he were in heat.

For lack of a better phrase, the situation came to a head one afternoon, with you under his desk, doing your best to lower his stress levels with your mouth and hands. The elemental man in his office had a look to him that Argennon didn’t like. It was the expression of someone who knew he was about to make a mistake.

“Er… sir, it comes to my attention that…” He swallowed and started again. “What I mean is… Agh… The fire mages.”

“Yes, the children. What about them?” Star’s children were under his tutelage. They had taken a strong liking to his Storm, who had hilarious stories about their mother and had hints and tricks in her “big storybook.” Argennon had tried hard not to notice just how well she interacted with them. He might be the slightest bit envious of his nephew. The children were amazingly quick learners, and he could only focus on how his own children would be.

“I’m sorry, I drifted off. What did you say?” Argennon asked when he realized you had stopped your task.

“I said that you should consider getting a concubine, since your consort is bereft. With how strong these fire mages are, and how you’ve not produced an heir in so very long--”

“Bereft? You think she’s infertile?”

The man flinched. “Why else would she not bear children?”

He sat in shock for a moment. The man took it as invitation to go on.

“Your heat is coming up soon. Considering how your last one went, perhaps we can find a girl with the capability to withstand you--”

Under his desk, something began growling. Loudly.

“You…” You came out from under the desk, pushing Argennon’s chair back. You rose clothed only in one of his cloaks, your hair a mess around you. You looked like a vengeful witch-- and that you were. “ _YOU_!” You were obviously incapable of words. You went to rush him, but Argennon grabbed your arms gently and tugged you to him. “I am _not_ infertile, and I _can_ handle him!”

The man cowered until he noticed you were being held back. Contrary to intelligence, he decided to be a fool outright and persist. “I ask again, why are there no heirs, then?”

Argennon sighed and released you.

“That’s none of your goddamn business!” You cried out, grabbing things on his desk and tossing them. Argennon was surprised you weren’t tackling him, honestly.

Your emotions were out of whack, if you were honest. That usually meant you were ovulating. Perfect timing for that, you thought bitterly.

“I’m going to ask you to leave.” Argennon said, pulling you back to him again.

“Yes, sire.”

“And those who share your sentiment are to go with you.”

“Sire?” The man realized too late that this was not a dismissal but an exile.

“Do not come back until you are ready to prostrate yourself for her mercy.” He smiled, but it was tight and false. “And mine.”

The man left, bewildered, and no more intelligent than when he entered.

You realized with a start that you were crying and you cursed under your breath. “I’m fine, I promise.” You said when he got up to hold you. “Just…. Fuck that guy. With a… I don’t know. Fuck him.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t necessary. This is entirely not what I want to do.” You sawed at your eyes. “Okay I’m good.” Another beat. “Nope, guess not.”

He sighed against your hair. “It’s just because your body is of a mind with me, isn’t it?”

“What? Oh.” You gave a watery chuckle. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Why don’t you?” He asked at last, softly, his mouth finding your neck after he brushed your hair to the side. You leaned into the warmth.

“Ah… I had… reasons.”

“Such as?”

“Drop it?”

“I’d rather not.”

You sighed. “I… was scared it would change how you feel about me.”

“That’s mildly insulting.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“You’re afraid I’ll lose interest. I thought we were past this.”

“We _are_.” You said. “I don’t know why I was so afraid.” You pulled away to turn in his arms. “But you want to know what pisses me off most? Knowing that someone thinks I can’t handle you if you go into heat.”

He sighed. “I wonder if you can, though. You’re human and I don’t know how much control I’ll have.”

“You’re worried you’ll hurt me?”

He paused, unwilling to agree. Your eyes narrowed. He wasn’t getting out of this. “I’m terrified.”

“So… when are you due to have it?”

“Any time.”

“And… you weren’t going to warn me?”

“I will feel it coming on with enough time to…” He sighed. “I don’t know. It’s been a long time, I didn’t keep track of when it was. I can feel it approaching, but I’m flying blind. I could go next month, next week, or in a few hours.” He paused. “Stress affects it, as well.” He gave you a pleading look. “I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“Well. If you would have said something, I could have done something to put you at ease.”

“What could you possibly do to make me relax in this situation?” You always thought you could fix and handle everything, and he believed in you on every front but this one. Of all the things that could hurt you, he didn’t want to be one that managed to.

“You seem to forget that I’m not just a random human.” You reminded him. “Now follow me to _my_ office.”

He had thought he’d have hours at least, but now he wasn’t so sure. He felt sick, hot. Each step he took reverberated within him, made him feel like falling over. It had to be the stress, or the smell of you, perhaps. Maybe it was his magic telling him that now was the time if ever to make heirs. In any case, he realized he was in trouble the moment he entered your room, surrounded by your scent.

He could tough it out. He had to.

When you sat him down on your bed, since your office area was in your personal room, and pulled your desk chair closer to him, he tried to figure out what you were up to, but it was hard with his senses in a cloud. It wasn't the only thing hard, either.

“Quick question. This might be odd, but…”

He was trying hard to focus on your words, but the pulsations of your soul distracted him. Surely with the two of you having bonded… anything further would be redundant, right? God, but he felt so… hungry. Everything was in a haze and he was tunneling in. It made him feel helpless, but the contractions in his arms reminded him just how much damage he was capable of.

That’s right, he remembered. Last time he’d been like this…

“Gen? Hey, you okay?”

He was panting.

“Well, you weren’t exaggerating. Wish you could have held off a few more minutes, but I’ll make this quick.”

He felt so uncomfortable as a whole, and the way your body glowed in his light reminded him of satin and how soft you would feel against his ravenous body. He reached out, and you batted his hand away easily. “Pay attention. This will only take a minute, and then you can have as much fun as you want.”

What was that noise that came from his throat? Desperate, needy. Guttural.

It affected you, and he took joy in watching you shiver despite the sheen of sweat on your body.

You had a knife. Wait, no, there was a word for it that you used. Adam? Was that it? It was a phallic symbol right? He knew what it was but it wouldn't come to him right now, not when he was at a loss to remember himself more as the moments wore on.

“I’ll ask again. Is there any possible way you can bleed?”

He offered his hand again. He could focus on being corporeal, perhaps. Since when were you into bloodletting?

“No, no. I’m gonna need to work with something else.”

He was confused.

“Watch, okay? I’ll be careful.” You brought the athame closer to your mouth, closed your eyes and licked the edge of the blade, a thin line of blood welling. You hadn’t cut deeply at all. Just enough to let your blood pool in the dip of your tongue.

God, the sight of your mouth made him harder. He realized his hand was wrapped tightly around his cock and pumping lethargically. He was still panting. You offered the athame, and he lapped at the area that had your blood on it, his growl resonating at the taste. The pain of the slice across his tongue wasn’t much compared to the intense feeling trying to claw its way out of him.

You let the athame fall and left your chair. Carefully, you kissed him, sucking his tongue. The taste of your essence fed his desire, and he clutched at you, trying to pull you closer. He could feel the workings of your magic like whiskey, racing through his body before steeling to feel like ice. He gasped and before he could acclimate, it was gone in the rush of his heat again.

You were whispering, your lines blurred, your eyes closed. He couldn’t understand what you were saying, but he also couldn’t understand why you weren’t riding his cock yet. He reached between your legs and parted your lips with his fingers. His weakness was fading quickly, being replaced by a heady strength that would devastate you if he wasn’t careful.

You were so ready for him, and the way you clenched your eyes shut as he explored you, hands shaking, told him he was endangering your concentration. He couldn’t stop, though. Your hands on his shoulders grew very cold and he gasped, snapping to himself just enough to obey the hidden demand.

He was still all of another minute before his hands found your hips. You were still whispering those nonsensical words when he cupped your ass and lifted you, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. You wrapped your legs around his waist, flexing your thighs to keep from impaling yourself on his shaft just yet. You were almost done.

“I need you. Now.” He panted into your neck, slamming your back against the door. You almost lost your grip and-- more importantly-- almost quit chanting. You grew louder in your focus, your breath coming in ragged pants as his mouth claimed one of your nipples.

“Give into me.” He pleaded, trying again to slide your legs just enough-- but you held fast.

The echo of that icy feeling made him shudder and your legs gave way at last. You were exhausted. Whatever you’d done, it was enough to deplete you. No matter. He would fill you back up. In multiple ways. He didn’t intend to stop.

You had quit chanting and so when you were sinking too slowly onto his cock, you were able to cry out his name. It made him feel possessive. Feral. It felt so good to hear you say his name like that, as desperately as the first time.

“I’m going to breed you.” He growled against your neck. “You’re mine.”

“Yes!” With the absence of your magical reserves, you were about as lost as he was.

“Mine!” He roared, biting into your shoulder. You cried out, getting even wetter around him, fueling his need even further. When he pulled back, he noticed that, rather than bleeding, the markings glowed the color of his magic.

You grabbed onto his horns and yanked him forward again. “More!”

He lapped at the markings, enjoying the coppery taste and the echo of pulsations in his body in yours.

What was it you had done?

He needed to be in better control. He needed more of you. He pulled you away from the door and staggered to your bed before realizing it would probably go up in flame.

You never used this bed anyway.

He was beyond rational thought by now, tossing you onto the bed and setting upon you in a primal rage. You returned passion for passion, biting at him, growling as he ravaged you. He looked more like a beast than you’d ever seen him, and you couldn’t help but notice that it turned you on.

When he came, he slammed into you roughly, his cock throbbing, pouring blissfully hot into your deepest reaches. You were so close, and your energy was restored. Your awareness was coming back to you. You let your fingers trail up his chest, enjoying the way he panted, his eyes struggling to focus, as he fixed you with his hungry gaze again.

“Want me to take over, chief?”

It usually amused him that you refused to refer to him as a king, but it only brought awareness now to another desire you were bringing to the surface of him. It was confusing. He couldn’t put words to it entirely.

If he were able to speak right now, he’d say so, right?

You were grinning at him devilishly. He loved that look. He loved the feeling of your skin.

You grabbed one of his hands. In his current state, it was rather large. With a start he realized _he_ was rather large. For a few moments, he was entirely conscious of what was going on.

You were okay.

You were apparently _more_ than okay. His cock twitched, still hilted in you, as you laved one of his fingers. You gave up eye contact to close your eyes as you pressed his finger past your lips. You could taste yourself on his fingers from earlier. You hummed, answered by a growl as his heat reared again.

You released his finger and looked up at him. “C’mon, let me take over.”

He let you guide him into lying down, now that he was in his mental haze again. He hated the heat, how he couldn’t speak, could barely move of his own mind.

You climbed on top of him. “You’re fucking marvelous. You know that, right?” You asked.

The praise was rare coming from you, but he wished he could enjoy it more. He ached to be inside you again. To--

His eyes narrowed, and he put a hand over your abdomen. You cocked a brow at him, still grinning. He found his words. “Tonight.” No? Well, he found _a_ word at least.

Your grin grew wider, more malicious. If you agreed now, the chase was over. The chase you’d drug out for years now. You were tired of running from something you admittedly had been craving for a while now.

You positioned yourself over him, holding his arms down so he couldn’t slam your hips down just yet. Not that it would help if he truly wanted to. He was slowly losing his control again, and it was only a matter of time before your taunting made him snap.

You were slow as you sunk down on him and circled your hips. He looked up at you, your body glistening in his light, magnificent in your pleasure. You set a rhythm, let yourself get lost in him. He was lost in how you felt around him, how your legs trembled as you neared completion.

You whispered his name, looking up, arching as you rode him. He had joined your rhythm, making you whine and whimper as you tried not to let go just yet. You were so tight around him, and his hands had, at some point, taken to your hips to aid your movements as your legs gave way in your desperation. He could feel you unraveling, your volume rising steadily as he quickened the pace.

You fell forward, braced on your arms on either side of his head as you were flung into the throes of your climax. He continued to move your hips as you focused on drawing breath between your cries. He was still thrusting into you when he realized you were speaking.

“Argennon, please!”

Did you need him to stop? Did he hurt you? He was too far gone to stop, he couldn’t control it in his heat!

Your nails bit into his shoulders. “Yes!” He could feel you clench around him in need. Were you going to cum again? “Breed me, please.” It was no more than a whimper against his neck as he felt you begin to come undone again. It was too much, his movements roughened and became uneven as he came as well, filling you, holding your hips down to his.

As the heat wave abated, he lay there, holding you still, feeling his seed leak out around him. You were still whimpering, shaking from the intensity. He combed through your hair with his fingers and you looked up at him.

For another moment, everything felt clear. Your arms gave way and you lay on his chest and he chuckled and kissed your hair. He felt like everything was drifting upwards, like he wasn’t awake. God, you were perfect. One of your hands traveled between the two of you and you touched your abdomen.

You looked up at him, eyes soft, and he leaned up. He kissed you, he wanted to make sure you knew he was happy. He wanted to make sure you knew it wasn’t just the heat that made him feel like this.

The heat still hadn’t finished, though, and so, as he sat up with you astride his lap, his still-hard cock pressed to your belly as he kissed and touched what he could reach of your body in this position, worshiping the rest with his fingers, he began to lose himself again.

You climbed out of his arms and his hands followed you, temporarily weak again in the onset of his haze. You crawled on your hands and knees, and he got a lovely look at his handiwork, of the cum that decorated your thighs and opening. He swallowed his ragged breath and got up to crawl after you.

You glanced backwards at him over your shoulder and wiggled your ass playfully at him. His hands kneaded the flesh of your ass, digging his fingertips into you until you gasped. You let him lift your hips higher, murmured at the feeling of his cock sliding across you, the heat of it against your clit making you squirm in his grip, wanting the feeling of him in you again, as many times as it took, just a little more.

He grasped your hair and helped you to keep on your arms and knees rather than falling onto your face and suffocating against the mattress (which, miraculously, hadn’t combusted yet). Your back was arched, your gasps and moans unrestrained as he thrust into you again.

He could already feel the heat beginning to wear on him. Either that or his mind was coming back. In any case, his possessiveness of you wasn’t entirely born of primal need, but…

His other hand drifted from your hip, around you. He released your hair and braced his arm to your side, leaning over you. His hand flattened on your stomach and yours covered his a moment after.

He was like a beast coming into sentience, his consciousness warring with his feral impulses. He was so sensitive that it hurt, unsure how many more times it would take before he was done. It was so… mysterious how he felt so…

You were absorbing his energy still, weren’t you? That was why the heat was escalating so quickly. You…. you were perfect for this. You knew just what to do. You knew how to solve everything.

He remembered now, possessively clutching you to him as he continued to rut into you like a mindless beast. You had accepted his seed at last, you--

He would have the most intelligent, beautiful, troublesome children.

His voice was strained, he felt like he would die if he didn’t cum soon. It hurt but he couldn’t stop, and you felt so good, so welcoming, he just. He couldn’t put into words, even in his muddled, pathetic mind at the moment, just how much he _needed_ you.

You were overstimulated already, and you couldn’t help how weak he was making you. You could feel his energy swimming through your body until you felt like you would burn alive from the sheer amount of it. It felt amazing, the power he’d put into you, trusted in you--

But that wasn’t all he’d trusted to you, and it was that that excited you so much, made your heart hurt in that way that told you you were feeling something you’d never felt before, that confusing emotion of something new, something beautiful, something that threatened to choke you up if you weren’t so far gone at the moment.

You were ready for this, you wanted it with everything you had.

With the pace, he was riding you into your orgasm with you screaming against the mattress, and yet he continued, hammering into you at just the right angle. You were begging him not to stop, even though you felt like just one more orgasm would kill you. You wanted it, you wanted him. You reached between your legs and played a matching rhythm to his thrusts against your clit.

It was the feeling of his hips stuttering as he came that drove you over the edge again, the growling roar, the way he held you stubbornly to him. The feeling of him pulsing inside you as he filled you one last time. You felt the final flood of energy raze your blood and gasped, nearly collapsing from the added intensity.

With a gracelessness unheard of in him, Argennon disengaged himself and promptly fell over on the bed, too exhausted to do much more than pull you after him.

You managed to laugh a bit as he muttered softly, tugging you onto his chest. You spread out to absorb his warmth, leaving a kiss near his collar.

“You’re okay?” He asked, almost too quietly for you to hear.

“Aww, you _do_ care.”

“I… know I have an odd way of showing it…”

“Oh, fuck, I was just joking. I know you--”

“I do love you.”

It was very quiet.

He sighed. “I know I don’t… say those words. I don’t fit them very well, do I?” He chuckled and pulled you closer. “Please don’t stay silent.”

“I honestly never expected for you to say it.”

“You never asked.”

“We bonded. That says enough, doesn’t it? I have what I need to know you care… I didn’t want to… make you feel weird.”

He chuckled. “Do you like hearing me say it?”

“It… scares the hell out of me.” Your hand touched your stomach absently. “But… In a good way? Does… that make any sense?”

He did his best to shrug with you pinning his shoulder down. “I think I understand.”

“What about you? Are you okay?”

“I have no idea what you did, but you saved me a lot of time. I’m very tired, though, and I don’t think I can get back up for now. I don’t particularly want to.”

“I’ll send word later that we’re taking a few days to ourselves.”

At the hint of you getting up, his arms tightened briefly around you.

“I’m… not moving right now.” You could feel your magic draining slowly but steadily as your body used the vast storage to form…

You snuggled into him. “Argennon…. What happens when a water-witch has children with a fire elemental?”

He chuckled. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, there! If you enjoyed this, please check out some of my other works. I have a G!Sans/Reader fic that includes original songs I wrote specifically for the fic, and if you're more into something of the slow burn type, check out my mostly-sfw pseud RavenZaphara! I have plenty of Sans/Reader fics in the works with immersive character development. 
> 
> If you want to commission me, by chance, hit me up in the comments, and I'll give you my contact info ^.^ I swear I'm really friendly, so don't be shy! 
> 
> I love all things Undertale. Tell me about your AUs, your OCs, and your rarepairs. I am totally here for it!

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, that's it. That's the end.
> 
> Please share some love with Dark_Crystal_Demon and I for this! Now I'm off to go to the E.R. for a doctor's excuse T.T


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